


Grimmauld Place

by me_midget (gin_tonic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: snape_potter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/me_midget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Harry made the trip to Grimmauld Place alone? What if Grimmauld Place wasn't yet empty?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grimmauld Place

**Author's Note:**

> A gazillion thanks go to sassy_cat, who – once again – proved to be a wonderful and speedy beta! Thank you so much for your help!

Harry looked at Grimmauld Place and felt a shiver run over his skin. He hadn't been here in months. Nor had he believed he would be back anytime soon. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered again. The morning air was slightly chilly, as if it wanted to foreshadow that winter wasn't far off. When he breathed in deeply, he could almost smell it – falling leaves and frost.

Shaking off the feeling, he slowly approached the house. He thought of Ron and Hermione, and how angry they would be once they found his note. He'd be back, he had said in it, but he hadn't said when. Nor did he know, really. But he had to steal away in the wee hours of morning. Neither of them had thought it would be a good idea to go to Grimmauld Place, but his gut had told Harry that he just had to come here. Ron and Hermione would have tried to stop him and Harry wouldn't have backed down. They would have wanted to come with him. He had to do this alone. He couldn't explain why, he just knew that he had to.

Getting inside was easy, facing Dumbledore's spectre wasn't. He checked the basement and the ground floor for any sign of activity, but found only traces that Kreacher had been there – not that he had cleaned anything. He slowly moved to the upper landings: first, the drawing room where the Boggart had attacked Mrs Weasley. His and Ron's old bedroom. Further and further, he went and found nothing. Until he came to Sirius' old bedroom. A noise coming from the room alerted him of an intruder before he'd even stepped on the landing. Wand out and vigilant, he slowly crept towards the room, careful not to make any noise. That intention flew out the window though, when he spotted none other than Severus Snape kneeling on the floor, sniffling, and holding a picture of Harry's mum in his hands.

His gasp prompted Snape to jump up, but Harry's wand was already pointed at his heart.

"Don't you bloody move."

"You!" Snape snarled through his gritted teeth. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"It should be me asking that question. This house is mine."

"It was yours, until the Order seized it."

"I gave it to them. But you aren't part of the Order anymore. Not since you killed Dumbledore. So what are you doing here?" When Snape just started at him, Harry's wand hand twitched. "Talk or I'll hex you into the next century."

"If your threats were anything but empty, I might even be a little afraid," Snape crossed his arms in front of his chest. "As it happens, I'm not. And what I'm doing here is none of your business."

"It is my business! Especially since I just caught you breaking and entering at an Order location. Once I give you over to –"

"But you won't. First of all, because you are a fugitive and contacting someone from the Order will involve quite a lot of risks for both of you. And second, because you won't want anyone else to have me."

Harry scoffed, but at the same time knew that Snape was right. He needed answers for so many things. And the first involved Dumbledore's death. "Why? Why did you kill him?" He asked, wand still pointed at Snape. 

For a moment or two, Snape was silent. "Because he asked me to," he said then, quietly.

"You want me to believe that? That he asked you to do it?"

"You saw his hand, Potter. I know he spent a lot of time with you – you must have been aware that he wasn't well."

"I was there that night," Harry said. That made Snape's eyes grow so big that they almost seemed to pop out of his head. "I was there and I didn't hear him ask for you to kill him."

Snape swallowed thickly. "If you were there, you heard him say 'please'."

"'Please don't kill me.' He pleaded for his life!"

"Do you really think the greatest wizard of our time would be stopped by someone disarming him? And do you think he would ever – ever – beg for mercy?"

Harry bit his lip. He couldn't imagine Dumbledore doing that. But that night had been special circumstances. Dumbledore had been weak and half dead already... Now that he thought about it – he couldn't imagine Dumbledore giving up because of that. Dumbledore never just gave up. Whatever had happened, there must have been a reason, there –

He saw Snape's wand almost too late. "Expelliarmus!" both of them shouted and Harry staggered backwards as his wand was knocked from his hands. On the other side of the room, the same happened to Snape. Baffled, Harry stared at the man. "You disarmed me!"

"And it was fairly easy to do, too. Honestly, don't you have any pride as a wizard? You should at least manage to defend yourself against –"

"You never use the disarming spell! You curse people!"

"Yes, well, what if I didn't want to curse you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Snape crossed his arms in front of his chest. Neither of them could safely make a launch for their wand – they had no choice but to talk now. He made a face, groaned and glared at Harry. "Let me ask you a better question: why would you think I would curse you, of all people?"

"Because you hate me."

"I don't hate you. You just aggravate me."

"Same difference."

"It is not. When you hate someone, you wish them harm. And if I wished that, I certainly wouldn't have disarmed you." 

For a while, Harry just stared at Snape, wondering what to do about this. He felt like someone had sucked all the energy out of him – the will to fight with Snape was suddenly gone. Harry sank down on the floor. "All right."

Snape eyed him suspiciously. "All right?"

"Yes. Now sit down and explain about Dumbledore."

Snape hesitated for a second or two, but eventually sat down next to Sirius' old wardrobe and told Harry everything about that night.

Afterwards, Harry felt empty and so, so tired. He'd clung to his hatred for a long time and now that the reason to be angry was gone, he didn't quite know what to do. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up three years ago, when things hadn't been this complicated, when Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye and Hedwig had still been alive. Yet he knew he'd never get that wish fulfilled. Therefore, he settled for dragging himself into Sirius' old bed with the dusty covers.

Snape pushed himself to his feet and moved to the door. "Wait," Harry said. "You can stay, if you want." After a couple of seconds, Snape moved towards the bed. It was big enough, after all.

******

For a while, they just lay there, breathing deeply. Harry felt better with Snape lying there by his side - not that he could explain that particular feeling. Snape radiated warmth and for a moment, Harry wanted nothing more than lose himself in it.

In the midst of darkness, Snape started speaking again. He told Harry of his mother and how the two of them had been best friends. He told Harry everything, even what he had a done to deserve her fury. After a while, Harry rolled onto his side and looked at Snape while he was talking. And once he was finished, Harry used the safety net of the night to tell Snape things he hadn't even told Ron or Hermione. How afraid he was, how he feared that he had missed too much in life for it to be already at its end. Because while Harry didn't want to die, the reality of death was clearly there. Every day. When he was finished, Snape took his hand and squeezed.

Talking with Snape was surprisingly easy. It felt good. Thinking back to those times during sixth year when he'd been so obsessed with Snape, when he'd not been able to get Snape out of his head… He'd blamed the damned Occlumency lessons from the year before, at first. Then he'd tried to forget about Snape by snogging – and later shagging – Michael Corner and Terry Boot. Now that he was lying here, he realized he still carried that torch, for whatever reason. It certainly wasn't Snape's dashingly good looks that now made his heart beat faster and his tongue feel like sandpaper. Maybe… maybe if he had Snape just once… 

Harry scooted a bit closer. The move wasn't elegant at all, but Snape pulled him closer nevertheless. They didn't speak while they undressed each other. Their moves weren't hurried, but urgent, their kisses driven by lust. They used spells where a careful lover would have used fingers and lube, did everything they could as quickly as possible to get what they wanted: Snape pushed slowly inside Harry and Harry pressed himself against Snape, groaning. It was tight and hurt slightly, but Harry relished the feeling. _He was alive._

On the fifth thrust, Snape hit Harry's prostate. Groaning loudly, Harry clung to Snape's back, urging him onwards. With every push, Snape's stomach rubbed against Harry's cock, reducing Harry to a begging mess.

"Fuck, yes! Please, please, please!"

Snape picked up the pace, fucking him harder, pushing him up until every movement bumped Harry against the headboard. Harry neither cared nor minded. His words left him and he could only give a shuddering moan when he came. Only a few seconds later, Snape tensed and shuddered quietly, and then slowly sank down on Harry. They lay like this for a bit, until Snape pulled out of Harry and rolled away. A wordless spell cleaned them up, and soon after, both had fallen asleep.

When Harry woke up the next morning, Snape was gone. He got dressed, feeling a bit dazed, but content, and did what he had actually come here for: He looked for clues about the Horcruxes. 

He wouldn't see Snape again before the battle, before going to the Shrieking Shack.

******

Fin


End file.
